Mistakes Of Nature
by Synnerxx
Summary: Chris believes in werewolves and he believes he has to hunt them down and kill them. Bobby believes in Chris.
1. Boy With The Broken Halo

**Warnings:** Mental instability, insanity, paranoia, serial killers, murder

**Pairings: **Hints of Chris Argent/Bobby Finstock

**Prompt: **Serial Killer

* * *

They're in the middle of a game, and while most of Bobby's attention is on the field with his players, he does notice the strange man standing beside the bleachers, eyes scanning the crowd instead of watching the game. Then they score and it's the winning shot and Bobby's attention is back on the field and he quickly surrounded by his team, whooping and yelling. When he remembers the man, he looks around again, only to find out that he's gone. A vague sense of disappointment fills Bobby for a moment, but then he shrugs and turns back to his team to celebrate with them.

It's only later, after everyone has gone home, that Bobby realizes that he's left his jacket out on the bleachers and he grumbles to himself, heading back out there. He stomps up the bleachers, the metal clang making him feel not so alone when he turns around at the top and sees the mystery man standing at the bottom of the steps, smirking up at him.

"Good game tonight, Coach." The man says, smirk still in place.

"Uh, thanks. Have we met before?" Bobby asks, clutching his jacket in front of him for a moment before putting it on.

"No, I'm new in town." The man tucks his hands into his pockets and watches Bobby walk down the bleachers now, quieter this time.

"Bobby Finstock." Bobby holds out his hand when he gets back on the ground and flashs a small smile at the man.

"Chris, Chris Argent." The man says, shaking Bobby's hand.

"So what brought you to Beacon Hills?" Bobby says, letting go of Chris' hand.

"I'm on a hunting trip." Chris smirks.

"Hunting trip? But it's not hunting season." Bobby frowns in confusion.

"It's always hunting season for what my prey is." Chris says and then turns, walking back towards the school.

Bobby catches up to him. "What are you hunting?"

Chris glances at him. "You wouldn't believe me. People rarely do. Besides you're safer and better off not knowing."

Bobby stares at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." Chris shakes his head and opens the school doors, gesturing for Bobby to go in ahead of him.

Bobby does and Chris follows him to the entrance of the boys' locker room.

"Good night, Coach. Congratulations on the win tonight." Chris nods at him before turning and heading down the hall to the exit.

Bobby calls his thanks after him before heading into his office to gather up the rest of his things. All he wants now is a hot shower, a glass of whiskey, and to fall into bed and sleep for the weekend.

He's heading down the hall, almost at the door when he hears the gunshot. Startled, he drops his keys from his hand and runs outside, bursting through the door. His eyes sweep over the parking lot and he spots Chris standing behind a SUV. He runs over to him, only to see that he's holding a gun and there's a body on the ground.

"What the fuck is going on? What the hell are you doing?" Bobby screams, panic racing through his veins.

Chris turns to look at him, face blank. He glances back down at the body and kicks it. The person doesn't move. Chris tucks his gun away and turns to face Bobby.

"You shot them! What the fuck?" Bobby stares at the body on the ground, recognizing the man. He works at the grocery store. Bobby can't think of his name. It doesn't seem as important as the pool of red around him that keeps getting bigger.

"He was a werewolf." Chris says calmly.

Bobby jerks his gaze back up to Chris' face. "Werewolf? What the fuck are you on, man? You just shot him! You killed him!"

"Trust me when I say it was for the greater good." Chris says, opening the trunk of his SUV and pulling out a tarp. He unfolds it next to the body and drags it onto the tarp. He wraps it back up and heaves the corpse into the trunk and then pulls out a bottle of bleach and pours it on the puddle of blood and then pours a few water bottles on the mess until it isn't a puddle anymore and doesn't look like blood.

Bobby stares at him, watching him work and wonders why he isn't calling the cops or screaming or running away. He doesn't think Chris will hurt him, but still. He just saw Chris murder someone and then claim the man was a werewolf. Clearly, something is wrong with the man.

But the more Bobby thinks about it, the more it makes sense. The werewolf thing. It would explain the weird sightings of animals in the forest, though no one can agree on exactly what it is. But this is ridiculous. Werewolves only exists in movies and books meant to scare people. They aren't real.

Chris is standing in front of him again. "You think I'm crazy." It's not a question.

"Werewolves aren't real!" Bobby blurts out.

"What if I told you I could prove it to you?" Chris asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You can prove to me that werewolves are real?" Bobby asks, skeptical.

"Yes, I can. If you come with me." Chris nods, still calm, as if they're talking about the weather or something. It sets Bobby on edge a little and, at the same time, it comforts him. Strange.

"Fine, show me that werewolves are real." Bobby says cockily. He realizes that this is incredibly dangerous, that Chris could kill him just as easily as he killed the other man, could lure him out into the woods and put a bullet in him, but he finds that he doesn't care and that he's more than willing to go along with Chris and let him prove that werewolves are real.

Chris stares at him for a few more seconds and then nods. "Get in."

"Wait, I forgot my keys. I dropped them inside." Bobby turns to go back into the school.

"Hurry up." Chris says mildly as sirens begin to wail in the distance.

Bobby jogs into the school, scoops up his keys, and heads back out to Chris' SUV and slides into the passenger seat. Chris drives out to the edge of the forest and gets out. He walks around to the trunk and drags the body out. He uncovers it and Bobby gets out, hesitating slightly as he walks over to Chris.

"See this?" Chris points at a scratch on the man's arm. It looks infected to Bobby.

"What about it?" Bobby asks, looking up at Chris.

"I cut him with a blade that was soaked in wolfsbane oil. If he had been human, it would have just been a normal cut and it wouldn't be infected like it is. Wolfsbane only affects werewolves like this." Chris explains.

"So that's how you know he's a werewolf?" Bobby asks, leaning over the body and wondering who the crazy one really is here. Chris for thinking that werewolves are real and killing someone or him for going with Chris to the middle of the woods at night and letting him explain werewolves to him and him starting to think it makes sense.

"And other things too. I've been watching him for a while now." Chris shrugs.

"He's really a werewolf?" Bobby looks doubtfully down at the corpse. It didn't look very wolf-like to him, but what did he know?

"Yes." Chris says, walking over to an oil drum that Bobby hadn't noticed before. He heaves the body into it and goes back to the trunk and pulls out a gasoline can, one of the bigger ones, at least five galleons, and pours it over the body. He drops the canister and pulls out a book of matches from his pocket. He lights them and drops it into the oil drum and watches as the fire springs to life, bright and hot.

Bobby stares at it, mesmerized, wondering what it is about this man that has him so intrigued and willing to believe what he says about werewolves. He's never really been one to believe in the supernatural and so he doesn't understand why this man is so easy to believe with only the minimal amount of proof that Bobby can't even really call proof.

"So you just go around hunting werewolves?" Bobby asks, looking over at Chris.

"Yes. Someone has to do it." Chris says, eyes still on the fire.

"Are there others?" Bobby asks, curious about this man and his life and how it works.

"Yes. I've met a few. There aren't many though." Chris answers, glancing over at Bobby.

"in this day and age, who even really believes in werewolves anymore?" Bobby mutters, mostly to himself, but Chris still hears him.

"You do. I got you to believe, didn't I?" Chris looks at him hard, an unreadable look in his blue eyes.

As much as Bobby wants to deny it, as much as his instincts tell him to deny it because it just can't be true, he still nods because he knows it is true. He feels it deep inside. Like he finally has the last piece of the puzzle now and it fits and there's the completed picture. Werewolves do exist and this man hunts them down and he kills them before they can kill others.

He stares at Chris, watching him tend to the fire as it goes down, feeding it sticks and prodding the embers back up to flame. He doesn't exactly know what he's supposed to do with the knowledge of werewolves and their hunters, but it doesn't feel so strange being out here with Chris.

"Let me help you." He says suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

"What?" Chris asks, startled somewhat.

"Let me help you hunt werewolves." Bobby repeats, unsure of where this is coming from, but feeling deep down in his core that this is the right thing to do.

Chris studies him for a moment. "No."

"What do you mean no?" Bobby frowns. That isn't the answer he wants.

"Hunters rarely work in pairs and you have a job and a life here. I don't have roots down anywhere. I come and go as I please and it's easier if I don't have someone tagging along after me." Chris explains calmly.

"So you drop into town, kill someone in front of me, tell me all about these werewolves of yours, and then expect me to want to stay here and not do anything about them?" Bobby demands, folding his arms across his chest.

"I didn't tell you so you could help me and become a hunter. Being a hunter takes years of hard work and training. I just told you so you'd understand why I had to kill him." Chris gestures at the fire.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you had help? You know, tracking them down, testing them, killing them, getting rid of them? Seems to me like it be faster and easier with two people instead of just one." Bobby says, feeling smug because he just knows that he's got Chris there.

"If it's faster, that leaves more room for mistakes. If there are two people, that's one more person than necessary to screw up and get hurt or killed and that's not something I need." Chris says, letting the fire die out in the oil drum.

"If you teach me, then I can help." Bobby points out, watching as Chris dumps the ash and bone fragments out onto the dirt and then grabs a shovel, using it to mix the ashes with the dirt, covering it with a light layer of leaves so it looks mostly undisturbed.

"Who says I even have the time to teach you anything about this?" Chris demands, glancing up at Bobby while he works.

"You did when you said you have no roots." Bobby smirks, knowing that he definitely has Chris there.

Chris pauses and looks up at Bobby, considering. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, having someone with him. Someone who could help out and watch his back. Someone to help him deal with the loneliness of the road, of constant travel. It might even be nice to have someone around again, to get close to someone. Maybe it was time to let someone in after all this time.

"Alright. But you know this means quitting your job and leaving Beacon Hills, right? You sure you can do that?" Chris leans against his shovel, finished with his task.

"Yeah, I can do that." Bobby nods, uncrossing his arms.

Chris sighs and then tosses his shovel back in the trunk and gets into the car. Bobby climbs back into the passenger side.

"I'll take you back to the school to get your car." Chris says and Bobby nods, suddenly exhausted. He glances at his watch and is surprised to find that it's after midnight.

He yawns and leans his head against the window, drifting off on the short ride. He blinks sleepily when Chris touches his arm and then he looks around, remembering where he is and who he's with.

"Thanks." He says and slips out of the car.

He watches Chris drive away before getting into his own car and heading for home, wanting nothing more than a shower and his bed.

It's been three months since Bobby watched Chris kill a man in the school parking lot. It seems both longer and not so long ago. He's quit his job at the school and sold his car and has pretty much given up all his worldly possessions because life on the road doesn't make for a whole lot of room to lug things around. He sits in the passenger side of Chris' SUV and waits for Chris finish pumping the gas.

Over the course of these three months, he's learned how to tell if someone's a werewolf, hot to shoot various types of guns, and basic hand to hand combat. He's also learned how to kill a werewolf, though he has yet to actually kill one himself. Chris usually does that and he helps with the disposal.

They've long since left Beacon Hills in the rearview mirror and are somewhere north of it now. Bobby isn't exactly sure what the town is called, but Chris is sure there's a few werewolves here and so on they go. It wasn't hard to leave Beacon Hills. His family isn't there anyway and he didn't really have friends. It was easy and he finds that he doesn't miss the town or the people.

He doesn't question Chris, but he notices the longer he stays with the man, the more paranoid he seems to be. Well, not paranoid because he's not crazy, but more alert. On the look out. That's a better term for it anyway.

Chris tosses a newspaper on his lap when he gets in and Bobby looks down at it. He opens it up and flicks to the local news section.

**RELATED MURDERS**

catches his eye and he begins to read it, frowning at the page.

_Police have connected a series of murders to each other. Police say they have leads they are working on. There are no suspects at this time. Police are advising the public to not wander around the woods alone at night. If you see any suspicious activity or unexplained fires in the forest, please call your local police station or 9-1-1._

Bobby looks at Chris. "Is this us?"

"Yes. Like I told you, most people don't believe in werewolves. We'll just be more cautious and careful." Chris pulls out of the gas station and heads back to their motel.

"They're connecting the dots, Chris. How long before they figure out that this is us? Before they start calling us serial killers? I think we're in over our heads here." Bobby shakes the paper at him.

Chris snatches it from him without taking his eyes off the road. "I'm aware of what the dangers are, Bobby. It's a risk that we'll just have to take. Getting worked up over it isn't going to help because then we'll get sloppy. People won't understand that we're protecting them."

Bobby doesn't have an answer for that and so he falls silent as they continue to their hotel. He's silent as they gather the equipment that they'll need for tonight and put it in the trunk. He stays silent as they track their newest target and wait for her to be alone. He's silent as Chris walks up to her and convinces her to come with him into the dark, ignored alley. He stands at the opening of it, making sure no one walks by. The muffled gun shot makes him turn as Chris unscrews the silencer and tucks it away with his gun.

"We're not going to burn it?" Bobby asks as they head back to the car.

"No. It's dead and we don't need to tip off the police any more than we have." Chris explains as they drive off.

Bobby nods and goes back to staring out of the window. He's startled by the sound of Chris' voice.

"The next one is yours. I think you're ready." Chris says mildly.

Bobby thinks about it for a moment. It's a pretty big thing. He wonders if he can do it when it comes right down to it. The people don't look like monsters when they kill them. They look like people.

A little voice in the back of his head whispers at him. _Of course they look like people. That's how they blend in, how they kill so easily. You can do it. You will do it. You're protecting people, remember?_

He nods. "Okay."

Chris glances at him. "Good."

There's an odd tension after that, but Bobby ignores it when they get back to the hotel. He takes the first shower and is asleep before Chris gets out of his.

He wakes up the next morning when the sun hits his face and he groans, rolling over. He hears the shower running and knows that Chris has been up for at least an hour. He's surprised Chris didn't wake him before now.

He pushes himself up and picks up the cup of coffee left on the table for him. It's still warm and he sips at it while he waits for Chris to get out of the shower.

Chris comes out a few minutes later, shirtless and still slightly damp from the shower. He slings the towel around his neck and Bobby glances up at him, an odd twinge going through his belly as he looks Chris over. Realizing what he's doing, Bobby jerks his gaze away and takes another drink of coffee, finishing off the cup and heading into the bathroom to take his own shower after he grabs a stack of clean clothes from his duffle bag.

When he comes out, Chris is sitting at the table, reading over the newspaper.

"Anything new about us?" Bobby asks, an edge to his voice.

"No." Chris' answer is short, almost snappy.

Bobby doesn't respond and grabs the sports from the pile that Chris has already read through.

"Look, what do you say we take a day off? Go out tonight?" Chris asks, putting down his paper.

Boby looks over at him, surprised by the offer. "Okay. There's a bar down the street. We can hit that up tonight."

Chris nods and goes back to reading.

Perhaps this is what they need. A night for themselves, one not spent hunting creatures of the night.


	2. Run Straight Down

**Warnings: **Frottage

**Pairing: **Chris Argent/Bobby Finstock

**Prompt: **Telling Scary Stories

* * *

They're sitting at a secluded table in the back because they have things to discuss that are better off unheard by others. Bobby picks at the label of his beer, tearing strips of it off and piling them up. Chris is drinking whiskey and somehow that doesn't surprise him though he's never gone out drinking with Chris.

"So how did you get your start hunting?" Bobby asks, thinking he might actually get an answer now that Chris is on his third glass of alcohol.

Chris stares down at the amber liquid as if it might give him the answer and then sighs, tossing it back in one go. "That's a long story."

"We've got the time." Bobby says, pressing just a bit.

"Yeah, I guess we do." Chris sighs and then gets up, going back to the bar for another drink. He comes back with both a drink and the bottle.

At Bobby's look, he sets the bottle on the table. "It's a very long story."

He pours himself a new glass and sighs, leaning back in his chair and studying Bobby. Bobby meets his gaze evenly.

"Every hunter has a different reason for going into the business. Maybe they come from a family of hunters and are raised in it. Others, like me, lose the most important people in their lives to the supernatural and vow to not rest until they wipe out those who hurt them." Chris takes a drink.

"What happened?" Bobby presses when Chris doesn't go on.

"My wife and daughter were killed by werewolves. They were mutilated, claw and fang marks all across their bodies, blood everywhere. Of course, police didn't believe me when I told them what had happened. They said I was going crazy with the grief of losing them. They looked for clues, evidence of who the murderer might be, but the case went cold after a few weeks because they didn't believe me when I told them about the werewolves." Chris shakes his head and tips the last of the whiskey in his glass into his mouth. Bobby pours him a fresh glass.

"You found them?" Bobby asks, sympathy in his eyes.

"Yeah, in our house. Broken glass all over the place. Police tried to tell me it was a robbery gone wrong, but I knew the truth. What else could it be with those gashes covering them and so much blood? They said some sort of serrated blade maybe, but they didn't really know. No one really knew because no one really believed me." Chris glares down at the table top, eyes glistening when he remembers his family.

Bobby stays quiet as Chris gets himself together once more.

"The funeral was a few weeks later. It was awful, seeing them lowered into the ground and knowing what had caused their deaths and being unable to do anything for them. I felt so helpless and useless and I vowed that I'd never feel that way again, so I learned how to be a hunter." Chris finishes off this drink too before pushing the bottle and glass away from him.

Bobby isn't sure what to say, so he stays quiet. He wants to reach out and comfort Chris, but he knows that any effort would be rejected and he doesn't want that from Chris and so it's safer to sit in silence with the other man until he decides that it's time to go.

He doesn't drink any more, but he stares around at the people, not really seeing them. He misses his family and talking about them tonight had only served to reopen wounds that he thought had scarred over by now. It had helped a little, he'll admit. At least Bobby believed him. He looks over at Bobby, watching him as he absently resumes picking the label off of his beer that's been untouched since Chris started his story.

"You ready?" Chris asks, getting to his feet.

"Yeah, guess so." Bobby stands and follows Chris out of the bar after they handle the tab.

The walk back to the motel is quiet, each man reflecting on all that was said tonight.

There's an odd tension crackling in the air between them, but Bobby chooses to ignore it. It's probably just a result of whatever feelings are still hovering around what was said tonight. There's nothing he can do to change the past, but he has control over what happens in the here and now. He opens the door to their hotel room and sinks down on the edge of his bed. He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face before looking over at Chris, who's sitting at the table.

"Are you okay?" It's a stupid question, Bobby knows, but it's the only thing he can think of to say to the other man as he sits there with a lost expression on his face.

"No." Chris answers simply. He's not okay and he probably won't ever be okay again, but that's the way things go, he supposes, when your family is killed by werewolves and you devote the rest of your life to hunting them down and then find yourself getting tangled up in a man that you barely even know.

Chris gets up and stands in front of Bobby, forcing Bobby to tip his head back to look at him.

He reaches out and shoves Bobby back on the bed, ignoring Bobby's sound of confusion. He straddles him, pinning Bobby's wrists above his head. He needs this right now. He needs to feel human, alive. It's been so long since he's allowed himself to feel anything other than hatred and anger and pain. He needs this right now and Bobby seems to sense that as he goes limp under Chris.

Chris presses his mouth against Bobby's, tasting the alcohol on both of their tongues. He groans as Bobby kisses back, hands tightening on his wrists. He takes whatever Bobby's willing to give him as he grinds his hips down on Bobby, groaning at the friction of his jeans rubbing against him. He breaks the kiss and buries his face in Bobby's neck as they rock together, hands still pining Bobby's to the bed, though now he's just holding onto them.

Their hips rock together, hot and tight and it's overwhelming. Bobby groans, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He arches up against Chris, feeling the other man's teeth sink into his neck and he whines in the back of his throat, thinking that maybe they shouldn't be doing this, that maybe this is wrong in light of everything that's happened tonight, but Bobby can't bring himself to stop. It feels so good.

Chris rocks harder and harder against him, his cock pressing against the fly of his jeans. He groans, dragging his teeth along the side of Bobby's neck, marking him again and that thought goes straight to his cock in a burst of heat and he moans, shoving his hips down against Bobby's one last time.

He gives a broken cry as he comes in his jeans, sticky and hot. Bobby stills underneath him as his own orgasm washes over him. He doesn't move, letting Chris pant wetly into the side of his neck, struggling to hold back the tears. He tells himself it's okay to feel like this, but he really doesn't believe it.

He raises himself up, still straddling Bobby, and lets go of Bobby's wrists. There will be bruises there tomorrow and he's almost sorry, but he likes the flare of heat that goes through him at the thought of his mark being on the other man.

"Did it help?" Bobby asks, looking up at Chris, mouth flushed red and swollen.

"Maybe. I don't know." Chris answers truthfully.

He gets up and rummages through his bag for a clean pair of boxers and heads into the bathroom to clean himself up. Bobby sighs and doesn't press the issue, knowing Chris needs time. He winces as he feels the stickiness in his pants, glancing down at the wet spot on the front of his jeans. Looks like tomorrow will be laundry day.

Chris comes back out of the bathroom, tossing his dirty clothes in a pile at the end of his bed and climbs into bed without saying a word to Bobby. Bobby heads into the bathroom with a sigh and cleans up, going back into the room and flicking off the overhead light. He curls up in bed and stares at the red numbers on the bedside clock.

They'll figure things out. They have too because Bobby doesn't think he can do this without Chris with him and he doesn't really want Chris to be alone, though he doesn't examine that thought or its motivations too closely.

Everything will be fine in the morning light. They'll find a werewolf and hunt the beast down adn everything will be okay. At least that's what Bobby tells himself as he tries to fall alseep without thinking about how Chris' mouth felt against his or the solid warmth of his weight holding him to the bed or how they rocked together.


End file.
